


Rusted

by extreme_queer



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Elves, Mythal - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14804388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extreme_queer/pseuds/extreme_queer
Summary: Inquisitor Lavellan returns to his roots, with an offering. From the prompt ‘rusted’.





	Rusted

**Author's Note:**

> This is just my second work on this site, and it’s just a little drabble, but there will be more to come! Stay tuned because I think the story of the Ten Inquisitors is just getting started! ;D Really though, I’m still a beginner at this so any and all critique and review is SO appreciated!!

The clearing has become far overgrown from his last visit. The edges of the stone dias had already cracked and broken long before his time, a surviving memoir of senseless destruction, of ruination and fear. Vines crept over the piles of rubble that could have once been anything, statues, walls, carvings of history and tales of a past long gone that they could have learnt from all this time. But their fear was more important. Despite the sting it brought to see how torn down it was, the flowers, the brush, and even the small beginnings of trees growing up from cracked ground felt like a reclamation, A simple refusal to die. A single figure remains, intricately carved, a steadfast warrior against time and hatred. Mythal. Her helmed face hidden, it betrayed no emotion. She had stared down the shemlens who wished to undo her. She had frightened them away with the simple promise of justice that her visage gave. But not Vertices. As he kneels before the statue, travelling cloak folding around him, he feels only safety, only peace. In her hands is a sword.

 

“ _Isn’t she supposed to have a sword?”_

_His mother looks down at him, a touch of sadness in her eyes, but her soft smile ever present. “Yes, Da’len. It has simply been broken away.”_

_His father approaches the statue, carefully, a balanced blade in his hands. It had been crafted only months prior. An honorable blade, for she deserved nothing less. He leans down and lays it across the statue’s shattered palms. Vertices watches on with a touch of confusion. “Who’s going to use the sword if Da’ leaves it?”_ _  
_

_ Her eyes are on Isosceles, watching him with nothing but love behind them. “Mythal will use it. She will protect our travels.” She crouches down, tucking a stray curl behind his pointed ear. “She will protect you, Vertices.” _

_He looks at the statue again. “Why?”_

_Something flashes across Scalene’s face, just briefly, as if she wasn’t expecting that particular question. “All elvhen are under her protection. She loves us, and wants to see us thrive.” There’s a beat of silence before he grins slightly. She knows that smile, that look in his eyes. A veritable wave of questions were to come. There was so much he wanted to know._

 

The sword is rusted. Twenty years of rain and wind and simple age. But it remains in her hands, and as he rises to his feet once more, he places his hand on the leather hilt. Vertices stands where his father once stood. He removes the sword carefully, revealing an outline across her outstretched hands where the stone had been protected from rain and decay. Despite his better judgement, sentimentality takes over. He hooks the rust covered sword onto his belt. He crouches to his bag, drawing out a long object folded neatly in leather, the wrappings of which are quickly discarded. It’s a blade. An elegant sword he had forged himself, albeit with help on some aspects, not just a beautiful weapon, but a deadly one as well. A single green stone is sunk into the metal near the carved hilt. It’s one of his best, and she deserves no less than the best he can give. He places it in her hands.  
  
If she is their great protector, arm her.

 

They all need her now.


End file.
